


Kiss the Cook

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24456859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: When the power goes out during Gibbs' monthly poker game, they all learn a little something about each other. Slibbs.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 24
Kudos: 145





	Kiss the Cook

They were an hour into a contentious poker game when the power went out. The house went pitch black.

"Nobody better take my money," Fornell said in the dark. "I know exactly how much I have."

"Easy to do when you've only got 4 and a quarter," Grace quipped.

"Thought you weren't supposed to count your money when you're sitting at the table?"

Leon took Jack's musical reference and added, "The way he's been playing, I'm not sure Tobias knows when to hold them _or_ fold them."

"You guys are great," Fornell dryly replied. "Really great. Should take that act on the road."

The room was suddenly illuminated, forcing everyone to cover their eyes.

"Jesus, Popeye," Grace said. "A little warning next time."

There was no apology forthcoming, though none was expected. Gibbs stood at the table with the Coleman light in one hand and 4 more beers in the other.

Gesturing to the side window with the bottles, he said, “Might be here for a while. Whole street’s out.”

Jack stood, took the beer he offered and the bowl of peanuts. “Then I’m going to sit on the couch.”

“Yeah, when’re you getting a new dining room set?” Tobias groused. “These chairs are hard as a rock.”

“Needs a woman in his life,” Grace said, sliding a look towards Jack. “New woman, new dining room set, ain’t that right, Popeye?”

He grunted a reply and started for the couch, but Jack stopped him with, “Leave the light. Still have the negative images on my eyelids from the first time.” 

The group made their way into the living room and Jack immediately reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and covered her legs. Gibbs took a detour to the fireplace where he stoked the embers and put another log on. His chivalry, subconscious or intended, didn’t go unnoticed by Grace, though she kept the discovery to herself. The 5 friends found spots on the couch with Leon and Tobias taking up one side of the sectional and Grace commandeering the corner. Gibbs took up his usual place on the far end, and when Jack made a motion to give him more room, he surreptitiously held on to the hem of her shirt. Her eyes met Grace’s, who this time didn’t bother to disguise the discovery. They shared a look -one confused, one knowing- but nothing more was said.

“Looks like half of the city’s out,” Leon told them, raising his phone. “Electric company said it could be up to 2 hours.”

“Oooh! A sleep-over!” The men glared at Grace who just shrugged. “Forget them, Jack. Let’s braid each other’s hair.”

“If that’s some sort of euphemism, I might be interested.” 

“Be interested in a peanut in your eye, you pig,” Jack said, tossing the snack at him, though it was the backhand to the chest from Grace that made Tobias groan.

“How about a little game of ‘Truth or Dare’?” Grace asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “Strip poker?”

Jack vetoed the idea. “This one here wears too many layers.” Her hand went back to slap his chest just as Grace had done to Fornell, but hers lost steam along the way when the words hit her ears. Ears that were now burning red.

Oblivious to the embarrassment, Tobias groaned again, but for a different reason. “What? Are we 12? I wanna know something about our two favourite head doctors. You spend all your time getting us to talk. Now it’s your turn.”

The women looked at each other and shrugged.

Grateful for the distraction, Jack asked, “What do you want to know?”

Leon groaned at the sight of Fornell rubbing his hands. “Careful what you ask for, Tobias.”

“It’s not gonna be anything salacious,” he promised. “Unless you wanna go down that route, then I’m all for it.” He held up a hand to protect his eyes.

“Hmmm,” Jack began, pondering the request. Though he hadn’t said a word, she could feel Gibbs move in closer, the heat of his arm against hers despite the many layers of clothing she accused him of wearing. “Well, this probably won’t be what you’re hoping for, Tobias, but my great-grandfather on my mom’s side was born in England, and when World War II started, naturally, he wanted to join. But he was a bit of a rascal, as my mom used to say. So when he filled out the enlistment form, in the space where you had to list your school, he put ‘Cheam’, which is one of the most prestigious private schools in England.”

Leon chuckled. “But he didn’t go there.”

“Nope. In fact, he had dropped out of school the year before, but back then, no one was going to check the background.”

“They were just happy to get warm bodies in.” 

She turned slightly to Gibbs’ voice that seemed to be right behind her ear. “Yep. The catch? Because they saw the school listed, they fast-tracked him up the ranks. He was listed as the youngest Lieutenant in the British Army until the late 70s.” Laughter filled the room. “After the war, he donated to the school every year, as his private way of saying thanks for what their name had done for him. They were so proud to have _his_ name associated with them that they made a public apology for losing his records. You know, the records that didn’t exist. The end.” She took a sip of her beer and tilted the bottle towards Grace. 

"Damn, I should've gone first. I was just going to share my favourite college story. Not like that, _Toby_." She cut off Fornell's snark. "I had a professor in philosophy who came in one day, put a chair on the desk and told the class the 1st person who could convince him the chair wasn't there would be exempt from the exam. I raised my hand and asked, 'What chair?'" She brushed her hands clean. 

Fornell frowned. "I don't get it." The group groaned. "You ladies disappoint me. I know you got nothing going on in your personal life, Jack-"

"Hey!" Everyone waited for her to continue. "Whatever," she conceded, though she was rewarded with a warm chuckle beside her. She felt him shift by putting his arm on the back of the couch and turning his body into hers. She fought the temptation in the cover of the semi-darkness to lean back.

"But you, Grace?" Tobias continued. "I thought we'd hear about your gentleman friend. What's his name? Greg or Gary Something. Smalling? Or did his name match the rest of him?"

Grace waved away his teasing. "No, there was nothing wrong in that department. He didn't like dogs."

They all expressed their understanding in murmurs and hums. There was little Grace loved more than her black lab.

“But you went out with him for almost 6 months, didn’t you?” Leon asked.

Grace held out her hand towards Jack who put some peanuts in her palm. “Said he pretended as long as he could but couldn’t do it anymore.” Popping a peanut into her mouth, she shrugged, “Guess I wasn’t the only one faking it.”

This time, she was met with hoots of laughter. 

“Ouch,” was all Gibbs said.

“What was your secret, Leon?” Grace asked. “Out of all of us, you had the most stable relationship. How did you do it?”

The memories of his wife pulled up the corners of his mouth. “Never go to bed angry,” he advised, taking a pull from his beer. “Get it all out the night before, because you don’t want to go to bed not talking.”

“Why do I feel there’s a story attached to this?” Jack asked.

He nodded. “We had this fight one night about something I don’t even remember now,” he began. “I just remember we both decided we were right, and we both decided we were done arguing. So it was the silent treatment from both sides for the rest of the night. I went to bed early because I had a flight the next morning. The only problem was, I’m a deep sleeper, and I had to get up an hour before I usually did.”

“So it was out of routine,” Grace said.

“You got it. So I decided to leave a note on the pillow. ‘Please wake me up at 6:30, I’ve got a flight.’”

Tobias nodded his approval. “Good thinking.”

“No, it wasn’t. Because when I woke up, it was 8AM, and when I went to give Jackie hell, I saw a note on her pillow- ‘It’s 6:30- wake up’.” They all laughed, Leon included. “But there was a silver lining- since I missed my flight, I had the chance to make it up to her.”

Grace purred, “The best part of fighting is the making up.”

“The first time Diane and I made up was in the kitchen,” Fornell said.

“Did she have a pot of eggs on the stove?” Gibbs asked.

The odd question got everyone’s attention.

“Now that you mention it, she did. Every time we had sex in the kitchen, in fact.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “Soft-boiled eggs.”

Gibbs chuckled, almost to himself. “She never got that egg timer fixed.”

“How do you know about the egg timer?”

“It was her mother’s. Had sentimental value.”

“Wait a second,” Grace interrupted, “because I’m slowly piecing this fascinating bit of Tobias history together here. Your wife liked soft-boiled eggs. The timer was broken. So she’d invite you into the kitchen to get it on. Is that the train track so far?”

“Yeah, so what?” Fornell asked.

Jack covered her face. “Tobias, she was using you to time the eggs.”

“Soft-boiled, huh?” Leon noted. “What’s that, about 3 minutes?”

“Funny, she always liked them hard-boiled when we were married,” Gibbs said, feigning innocence.

Leon, Grace and Jack all howled with laughter, much to Fornell’s dismay. 

"Fifteen minutes for hard-boiled eggs, Tobias."

Jack's helpful tidbit wasn't taken well. "Yeah, yeah, I got that. Thanks, Chef Ramsay." 

Grace reached over and tapped an apology on his cheek. "You know we love you."

"Uh-huh."

The lights flickered then came on.

Gibbs looked to the ceiling. "That was quick."

"Someone must've heard my silent plea for help," Tobias said, getting to his feet.

Jack made a sympathetic face. “You’re not staying?”

“Nah. Figure I better get while the getting’s good.” He tilted his head towards the window. “Don’t know how long the break’s gonna last.”

Grace stretched and held out her hands and Tobias begrudgingly helped her up. “As much as it pains me to admit it, he’s probably right.”

Everyone else stood and migrated towards the door for their goodbyes. Leon made sure all drivers were within their drinking limit and promises were made to call once they all made it home.

“You’re staying?” Grace asked Jack.

Gesturing behind her, she said, “Thought I’d help clean up. You know.” 

Grace pursed her lips but kept her smile to herself. “I hope so.” They shared a quick embrace and she gave one to Gibbs. “Thanks for the good time, Popeye.” To the other two men, she said, “Let’s get this show on the road, gentlemen. I heard this one’s made of sugar, so he can’t get too wet.” She thumbed in Tobias’ direction. 

“And here I was being nice and refrained from making any Wicked Witch of the West comments,” he said, opening the door and lifting his collar against the rain that had abated but was still coming down.

Jack brought the blanket tighter around her shoulders and Gibbs barked, “I’m not heatin’ up the outside. Leon, I’ll see ya Monday. You two, same time next month and not before, if I’m lucky.” With that, the door was unceremoniously slammed shut. 

With the trio gone, the house was suddenly quiet, and as they returned to the living room, Jack murmured, “I kind of liked it with the lights off.” 

On command, the room went dark, save for the Coleman lamp that had been left on. She turned to comment on the timing, only to discover his hand over the light switch, and she smiled. The night had been the same as every other poker night, no different than any other night she had stayed late. But from the moment the power had gone out, a different kind of spark had bounced between them, and she couldn’t pinpoint why. Quite frankly, she didn’t care. Walking over to the big window, she inhaled deeply, as if she could smell the petrichor. 

“I love the rain,” she said, pulling the blanket closer. She didn’t realize how near he was until his hands found a place on her shoulders.

“Cold?”

“Not really.” Feeling his hands slide away, she quickly added, “but you can keep doing that.”

His chuckled breath was warm against her temple as he stepped flush behind her. Though he didn’t realize it, his observations of the night weren’t far off from hers. There had been a shift between them when the lights had gone out that he couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the primal instinct to protect her from whatever the dark held. Maybe the soothing rain had worn down his walls before he had the chance to repair them. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Her hair tickled his nose and he pressed into the blonde tresses, drawing a deep breath. He felt her lean back into his chest and heard her contented sigh. 

One hand pushed her hair away from her neck and she almost jumped when she felt his warm lips against her cool skin. It didn’t surprise her that their first real step towards intimacy would be him searching her skin for a place he thought no man had touched, a search that was decidedly possessive yet soft enough to be asking for permission. Her hand slipped from under the blanket and reached back to cup his face, to tug at the short hair around his ear. The hand that had brushed back her hair now took a fistful and tilted her head to the side to expose her neck even more. She was just beginning to enjoy how his mouth was crafting a map from her ear to her shoulder when a bright flash of light lit up the world for a milli-second, and she jumped at the thunder crack that followed. It broke the spell not the mood, because neither moved, though his lips returned to the place where he started, against her temple.

“What’re we doin’ here, Sloane?”

There wasn’t an ounce of regret in his voice, just a simple, straightforward question that was Gibbs all over.

She turned in his arms, letting the blanket hit the floor to allow her hands to the ‘S’ and the ‘M’ stitched across his chest. “I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I’m hungry.” 

His eyebrow quirked upward, suspecting there was more. He wasn’t disappointed.

With a playfulness she didn’t bother containing, she said, “I can’t stand boiled eggs, but I make a pretty mean quiche.” 

…..

-end.

**Author's Note:**

> A good quiche takes anywhere from 30 to 50 minutes to bake. ;)
> 
> As well, the musical reference is Kenny Rogers' "The Gambler", and 'Chef Ramsay' is, of course, Gordon Ramsay.


End file.
